An Enigma
Edgar Allan Poe
“Seldom we find,” says Solomon Don Dunce, “Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet. Through all the flimsy things we see at once As easily as through a Naples bonnet— Trash of all trash!—how can a lady don it? Yet heavier far than your Petrarchan stuff- Owl-downy nonsense that the faintest puff Twirls into trunk-paper the while you con it.” And, veritably, Sol is right enough. The general tuckermanities are arrant Bubbles—ephemeral and so transparent— But this is, now,—you may depend upon it— Stable, opaque, immortal—all by dint Of the dear names that lie concealed within‘t.
If you’re born in a cubicle and grow up in a corridor,
and work in a cell, and vacation in a crowded sun-room,
then coming up into the open with nothing but sky
over you might just give you a nervous breakdown.
# Isaac Asimov
We rub shoulders with many people everyday. Some may become close friends, or confidants. That's why I'm always optimistic. Sometimes it hurts. Not to worry - I try to stay happy. That night, I saw that woman again. I knew we'd never be friends or confidants. We'd let too many chances pass us by. Nothing happened, there was no chemistry. Maybe it was the weather, but that night I found her very alluring.